


Encapsulated

by BillieLiar



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I'm Sorry, Post-Series, Somewhere pre-season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 19:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieLiar/pseuds/BillieLiar
Summary: “Hotel. I was supposed to have a hotel. This is so not a hotel.”“They’re called capsule hotels, luv, they’re getting common lately.”





	Encapsulated

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, ‘m afraid not, luv.”

“There’s some kind of mistake, there’s no way this is the right place.”

Buffy stood, staring at the rows of small openings lining the hallway their check in information from the automated system had directed them towards, fists on hips in her “I’m gonna beat this problem up until it goes away” stance. Spike, a few steps behind her, tried his best not to laugh. She wouldn’t appreciate it if he laughed.

“Hotel. I was supposed to have a hotel. This is so not a hotel.”

“They’re called capsule hotels, luv, they’re getting common lately.”

They’d found themselves in central Malaysia, flown out here to deal with a potential apocalypse that ended up being nothing more than a bunch of prepubescent slime demons (Buffy had already forgotten their name) throwing some sort of interdimensional tantrum. Unfortunately, it was the kind of issue that could be dealt with by talking. Spike had handled that. She hadn’t even gotten to punch anything.

“But Giles said he reserved us a room. I don’t mind sharing a room but—“

The resident of the pod next to where they were standing protested to their chatter in a language that Buffy didn’t know. She apologized, gestured to Spike to keep it down (despite the fact that she’d been the one being loud), and trudged forward until she found the slot with their corresponding number on it. She stared blankly at the neatly made bed shoved into the made-to-fit capsule. It was barely larger than a twin, and if memory served Spike had a tendency to get handsy (and otherthingsy) in his sleep. She willed away the blush that accompanied that thought and focused on grousing some more.

“I don’t mind sharing a room, but this is a closet with a mattress and a curtain. Don’t they have like… another capsule thingy available?”

“Nah, they’re all booked up, it said on that check in terminal. ‘Sides I think ol’ Rupes getting us a place here last minute was the best he could do. He must not’ve realized what sorta place this is.”

“What do we do? Take turns?”

She turned and looked up at him with those big doe eyes, her arms crossed under her chest. She looked so tired. It seemed like she was always just short of exhausted lately. Spike just barely stopped himself from swinging an arm around her and pulling her into a hug. Christ, he’d missed her. Two years in LA of him being too much of a ponce to call, and now six months with the Council of Wankers: Second Edition keeping them both too busy to so much as have a drink, let alone talk.

“‘S alright, I’ll just find a bar or summit an’ wait the night out.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind? I’d say we could just patrol until the flight tomorrow, but it was a freaking long flight and a frustrating day and I just wanna go to bed so badly. I—“

“Slayer, ‘s fine. Promise. I don’t actually need to sleep, and besides I’d rather get a bit of a look-see than fly all the bloody way out here to talk down some fucking wannabe frat boys and then go back straight away. Wandering around‘s always fun.”

“It’s raining really hard out there… do they get tsunamis here? What if you get blown away or—“

“I’ll head back here if it gets too bad, pet, scouts honor. There’s a sort of public space back there with chairs and whatnot, I can get a kip in if I need to.”

She nodded mutely, and moved to tuck her bag in the luggage slot under the bed. By the time she’d managed to stuff it in, Spike had wandered off. She sighed to herself and climbed into the chamber, closing the curtain, and shucking off her jeans. It occurred to her as she lay down that she hadn’t been in such a confined space since her coffin, but she shoved that thought back into the “do not think about” box where it belonged. It had been years, and the nightmares had recently started to taper off. She’d be fine. She left the light on and snuggled in.

She was not fine.

The light must have been on a timer, because it was black when she woke up. Woke up sweating, with a barely contained scream fighting its way out of her throat. _Trapped. Trapped in that fucking box, ohgodohgodohgod helphelphelp_. She covered her mouth with both hands and let some of the cry out, just enough to satisfy her panicking body. She lunged forward and crawled to the end of the bed to pull back the curtain, and grasped it at the same time a long, pale hand grabbed it from the other side. They pulled the curtain in unison, and there he was, right there when she needed him as usual. They spoke over each other in a half-whispered jumble.

“Spike—“

“Buffy are you—“

“It was the coffin—“

“I’m a bloody idiot I shouldn’t have let you—“

“It’s not your fault I thought it’d be fine.”

They paused, and stared at each other with matching expressions of panic, chests heaving gradually slower. They whispered in unison again, his voice a little more quiet than hers.

“Would you stay with me?”

“Should I go?”

When he’d processed what she’d said his face softened and he nodded slightly. He straightened up to remove his duster and gestured for her to move back and clear room for him. He awkwardly climbed in, pressing himself as best as he could against the wall opposite from her.

_Don’t touch the girl unless she asks first._

“Was it raining too hard?”

“Hm?”

“When you went out, was the storm too bad?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah it’s coming down something fierce.”

He had no idea if it was even still raining. He hadn’t liked the thought of leaving her here alone since he’d lost his cell phone yet again and couldn’t be reached in case of emergency. So, he had plopped down in one of the available armchairs in the public area for this group of rooms and resigned himself to a night of Peaches-worthy brooding. Bloody soul.

He watched as she settled herself back in. She pulled her hair up out of her face and into a loose ponytail, slipped her bare legs back under the blankets, and lay down. She looked up at him in the dim light coming in from around the curtain and smiled a crooked half-smile. He wished for the thousandth time that day that he knew how to stop loving her. And then, directly after that thought, cursed himself for his own blasphemy. He was still Spike, soul or no, and Spike loved Buffy. Even if it made him feel like he was dying all over again every time he looked at her and couldn’t reach out.

***

The last thing she saw as she fell asleep was Spike’s face resting on the pillow across from her. So why was it that now, just a couple of hours later at most (she rarely slept longer than that these days), she found herself on his side of the bed, tucked under his chin, and drooling on his shirt.

_Drooling. Whatever deity is currently listening, please kill me now._

He seemed to be in the same position he’d been in at her last moment of awareness, so he hadn’t crossed to touch her.

_Of course not, he’s strictly “hands-off-Buffy” since he came back. Stupid vampire. He barely talks to me it’s like he doesn’t like me anymore. What am I supposed to do? Say something first? As if. God, shut up, Buffy, what are you, 12? You’ve got world saveage to focus on. Even if there are literal thousands of other girls on duty now—no that isn’t an excuse. Besides it’s not like us dating was ever a particularly good idea. Focus. No, not on how comfy his chest is. World saveage. But his chest… is… comfy. Wait, is he asleep? Or did he just let me get all over him?_

She froze and listened for signs he was asleep. It was always fairly hard to tell, and he could fake it if he felt it necessary, but the steady habitual breathing he was doing was a pretty good indication that he’d dozed off.

_Well if he’s asleep, there’s no harm in enjoying it for just a minute, right? I’ve missed him so much. Just a little snuggle, and when he wakes up I can be oops-I-must-have-rolled-over-in-my-sleep girl. It’ll be fine._

She curled tighter into him, tucked her arms between their chests and turned her face so it was pressed against his cool neck. She resisted the impulse to kiss it, even just gently. Suddenly, his arms were wrapped around her and she was being squeezed. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and croaked out.

“I know you’re not asleep, Slayer.”

_Shit_

She sighed.

“Stupid vampire hearing.”

He kissed the top of her head and started gently stroking her back.

“Sorry ‘bout that, luv.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face into his chest.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, Buffy and cuddling and stupid romance and stupid loving Spike are non-mixy things. Things are good. Stupid, Buffy._

She started to try to pull away, but he didn’t relax his grip on her. She felt him sigh and imagined he was making that slightly scrunched worried face he got sometimes.

“Nothing’s changed on my end, luv. For the record. Nothing’s changed.”

Suddenly her eyes were burning and she wasn’t nearly close enough to him. Stupid, she was being so stupid but—

“Nothing’s changed for me either.”

She felt him nod against her hair. They lay there quietly for a minute, his hands working their soothing pattern over her back. Gradually one of his hands worked its way into her hair. He tugged the elastic out and started finger combing her hair. A few tears escaped her, and her heart fluttered. She’d been so damn lonely for so long now. What did it hurt? Who would it hurt if she just let herself have this? Have him? She gave in to the earlier urge to kiss his throat, which triggered a quiet rumble from deep inside his chest.

“I love you so bloody much, Buffy. It doesn’t go away.”

“Why didn’t you say? I… I haven’t been able to make myself speak up, I was waiting on you to—“

“‘M still not worthy of you, kitten, that doesn’t change either.”

She made an ineffectual attempt to swat his chest with one of her hands that was pinned between them.

“Don’t be an idiot.”

He laughed a quiet breathy laugh and squeezed her against him, his one hand still tangled in her hair.

“Easier said than done.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“So… What now?”

“I don’t know… there’s so much baggage to unpack and I’m not sure this is the place to do it.”

“You could ask for a bit off when we get back? We could go off somewhere quiet-like and talk. They never mind me slipping off when I need to, no need to make it a whole thing and get them talking.”

She nodded again, and then paused.

“If we decide… if we… you know… I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t keep you secret again.”

She felt his grin against the top of her hair.

“Thank you, kitten.”

They lay in silence for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes. In that time Buffy made a choice. She pulled back a little bit, and this time he let her. When she had enough room to stretch up she pressed a single, hungry, deep kiss to his lips. He accepted it, muscles tense and still, but did not immediately reciprocate. She pulled back a hair.

“I know, I know, I always do this. I’m sorry I’m so sorry, I just… I miss you. I’ve missed you. I’ve been thinking about this basically nonstop for months and… I don’t know, Spike, I miss you, I even miss the talking and fighting and all the stupid messy stuff. I just miss you. Shit, I’m being Ramble-Buffy, I’m sorry... Why aren’t you shutting me up?”

When she stopped talking she heard that rumble from deep in his chest happening again, but somehow more sinister this time.

“Spike?”

“If I kiss you and we fuck right now, I’m not letting you out of the talking later. I’m a bloody idiot to even think about it but… Buffy if you want something from me right now you need to be prepared that the talk we have later is only going to end in us being together and me not letting you out of my bloody sight ever again. I’m not capable of doing this once and then walking away again. I’m not… I’m not gonna be a bloody secret fuck toy again, luv, it nearly killed us both last time and—“

“Yes.”

“What?”

“We’ll talk about all the big important things. The conversation is going to end with us forgiving each other and maybe going on a silly normal date and talking about silly normal things. I’ll drag you to some movie you don’t even kind of want to see, but you’ll enjoy it anyway even if you grumble about it, and you’ll walk me home after and the next day you’ll bring all of your stuff over and move in and I’ll never sleep with anyone other than you again unless we, as an adult couple, come to a point where we need to end things, or you ever talk me into a threesome. Okay, Spike?”

He stared at her in the half-light, mouth slightly agape.

“I… uh… okay.”

“I’ll make a fucking blood oath with you right now if it’ll make you comfortable enough to—“

His mouth was pressed on hers too tightly to allow any more of her words out. Their hands were too busy clawing and tugging at clothes for them to keep talking. His mouth was trailing kisses down her throat in that exact way that she’d been fantasizing about for months, and her brain was too fixated on her moaning couldn’t come up with any more words.

But their neighbor could. And did. Spike barked something in Malaysian, and the man silenced.

“Gonna have to be quiet, luv, turn around.”

“What?”

He grabbed her by the now bare hips and flipped her over so she was facing away from him. He tugged her so she was spooned against him as securely as physically possible before snaking an arm under her, and clamping a hand over her mouth.

“This okay?”

She nodded, and he sunk blunt teeth into her shoulder to muffle his own grunt as his cock slid home. She felt her eyes roll up into her head, and was thankful for the hand on her mouth because the sound she emitted was hardly human sounding and would not have been a pleasant noise for any of the other residents to wake up to. His free hand found its way to her clit and he started moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts that had the head of his cock butting against her cervix in a way that was going to make her come hard and soon. He detached his teeth from her shoulder and left harsh sucking kisses up her neck as he made his way to her ear where he whispered dirty nothings that never failed to completely destroy her in a voice so low only she could hear it.

“There’s a good girl, stay quiet, luv. You missed this as much as I did? I bet you did you insatiable little minx. Oh you’re so bloody hot, I love your sweet little wet clutching cunny. Has she been so lonely without ol’ Spike giving her a proper seeing to? I’ll bet you’ve been frigging yourself raw every night wishin’ for me, haven’t you?”

Buffy nodded vehemently at each question and tried to find something to hold onto as she rapidly hurtled towards the looming orgasm that was dangling just barely out of reach. She ended up clutching the wrist of the hand that muffled her cries and squeezing with both hands, tight enough that he’d have a bruise for all of a minute before his demon healed it away.

He bit her earlobe, and rubbed her clit faster, pressing down just hard enough and—

For a minute she was gone. Nothing existed outside of the roaring, searing, whiteness that surrounded her. She felt her mouth moving, knew she was saying something and hoped she had enough sense to be whispering. Wave after wave of bliss crashed over her and— just as she thought she’d lose consciousness from the force of it all—began to fade. As she came back to herself she heard what she’d been saying, and realized that Spike’s hand had moved from her mouth to clutch at her belly. Thankfully she was barely managing to whisper through her pleasure-tightened throat.

_I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you._

He was saying it back, just as quietly, nuzzling at her neck. She could feel him pulsing inside her, and the simple comfort of that overwhelmed her. They kept murmuring to each other until she lost consciousness at long last. She slept deeply for the first time in years. Finally relaxed enough to not transport herself to stressful revisitations of her past horrors.

He didn’t sleep, but listened to her breathing, and waited for sunup when he’d gently rouse her with kisses and soft-spoken verse. There would be a sun-proofed car waiting near the hotel’s door to take them to the local airstrip from which they’d fly home. They’d talk. It wouldn’t be an easy talk, they’d both shed tears, and apologize over and over, and fight, and make up, and find out things about each other they’d never known. She’d be right, as she always was, about the outcome.

He would wink at Giles when he thanked him for picking such a nice hotel. Giles would never quite understand why.


End file.
